The Coach's Father
by Romantique The Original
Summary: I've often wanted to explore the difficult relationship between Coach Taylor and his father. This is my attempt.


Title: The Coach's Father

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Eric/Tami Pairing.

Rating: T for some language.

Summary: I've often wanted to explore the difficult relationship between Coach Taylor and his father. This is my 100 percent fictional attempt.

Disclaimer: This Friday Night Lights fan fiction occurs at the end of Season 3 and is a Prequel to Season 4 which has yet to air.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

Nathan Taylor cut a striking figure of a seventy-three-year-old man. Tall and lanky with a full head of silver hair, he could easily pass for a man ten years his junior. He stood near the back of the darkened viewing room, waiting and watching for a remote possibility. His only son, Eric, didn't bother to attend either of his grandparents' funerals, so why should today be any different? There was; however, one thing of which the older gentleman was certain: When the time came, his son would never attend _his_ funeral.

The elder Taylor had never been able to figure out why he couldn't get along with his son, but their inability to get along was, indeed, a fact. A fast-talking surgical device salesman, now retired, Nathan Taylor made a lot of money during his working life. Through the years, he prudently invested his compensation, bonuses, and retirement into commercial real estate in and around his hometown of Athens, Georgia. To say he was disappointed his only son didn't follow him into real estate investments was an understatement. The father saw his son's rejection of his birthright as a sign of self-centeredness and immature rebellion. When Eric was young, in the fine, Southern, Taylor tradition, Nathan tried to break his young colt of his high, independent spirit. He made it his personal mission to discipline his son and break his will. Instead, in the end, he only managed to estrange him.

Nathan blamed his son for their divide then, and he blamed his son now because Eric turned his back and walked far, far away from his paternal family. The fact that the son didn't make it into the Pros of football and instead, chose a career as a teacher and a football coach, was a low paying, frivolous waste of a life in the father's eyes. It was folly, something to be outgrown. Nathan was certain his son chose this lowly path only to spite him. The problem was, his son didn't choose his path to spite his father. Eric loved the rules, the fairness and the camaraderie of the game of football and never outgrew that love.

On this day, up the road from the somber gathering, Texas high school coach, Eric Taylor, and his wife, Tami, took a seat at a table in a rustic bar down on Main Street in the small Georgia town of Barretts Mill. Eric had suddenly felt the need to settle before walking into the funeral parlor.

Dressed in a black suit for the occasion, Tami asked, "Hon, are you sure you want to go through with this?"

She cupped both of her hands over her husband's much larger hand. "You know, if you've changed your mind, you don't have to go. I wouldn't think anything of it."

She was referring to the long, last minute flight they decided to take early that morning from Austin.

Eric let out a deep sigh. Also dressed in his dark funeral suit, he ordered a tall scotch with a water back from the waitress while Tami indicated that she wanted nothing but water.

"I don't want to go," he responded, shaking his head and chewing the inside of his mouth, "but I have to … for my aunt Becky."

Eric's beloved aunt passed away in her sleep three days ago. He couldn't help but think we should all be so lucky to go in that way.

Still holding onto Eric's hand, with her other hand, Tami picked up a pretzel stick from a bowl in the middle of their table and took a bite from one end. "I know ya'll were close when you were growing up. But do you really think your Aunt Rebecca would want you to have to deal with your father today?"

Tami asked as she squeezed his hand. "I mean, would she want you to subject yourself to him again after all these years, especially on her account? I loved your aunt. I'm just suggesting that there are other ways we could honor her and pay our respects."

The waitress returned with their drinks and placed them on coasters before them.

Eric took a good belt and closed his eyes. "I'm doin' this for me, not for him. I need to do this for me … I just don't want to go."

He took two more slugs of the scotch in quick succession that emptied the glass. Then, he held up his index finger to the waitress indicating he wanted another.

"I'm sorry," he turned to Tami. "I know I'm not makin' much sense."

Munching on another pretzel stick, she offered, "Actually, you're making perfect sense. Okay," she said, her tone changing the direction of their conversation, "what are you going to say if your father walks up to you? You need to be prepared so he doesn't catch you off guard." Tami was a firm believer in role playing.

Eric looked up at his wife from the corners of his eyes. His hazel eyes looked especially stormy grey today.

"I would say 'I'm here to pay my respects to my Aunt Becky'." Pursing his lips, he added, "I'm sorry, Babe. I really don't have anything I want to say to him."

The waitress arrived with the second drink and took the empty away. Eric downed yet another slug of the alcohol.

"Alright then," Tami said, moving her hands over his forearm, "here's the plan. If you get into an uncomfortable situation, you lean over and let me know, and we leave. And I'm driving, Hon."

Grabbing a small hand-full of some more pretzel sticks, she continued, "Please, do finish your scotch, but I'm driving."

The coach gazed into his wife's blue eyes, took her nearest hand to his lips, and lightly kissed her fingers.

"Thank you for comin' with me." He then gave her hand a squeeze.

Tami smiled at him. "You'd have done the same for me."

And she leaned over and gave her man a tender kiss. His mouth was laced with the remnant taste of Johnnie Walker, but she didn't mind and drank it in. She loved him, and all she wanted to do was to help him get through this.

About fifteen minutes later, Tami parked their rental car near the funeral home. A tear formed in Eric's eye and a lump in his throat when he saw a reader board at the building entrance that contained the name of his beloved aunt, Rebecca Matthews. Her passing suddenly became very real.

Thanks to his Aunt Becky, Eric knew the problems between him and his father were not his fault. His aunt took a lot of her time and effort over many years to make certain her nephew knew that, as much as she loved her brother, Nathan was not a good father … that her parents didn't raise Nathan to be the unyielding, unloving man he was. She couldn't explain her brother's behavior, other than to say that it wasn't normal and to witness that Eric had done nothing to deserve it. She worried about the impact her brother's dysfunction would have on her nephew and did her best to try to make it as right as she could. For Eric, it was one thing to hear how off base his father was from his mother, but it was an entirely different matter to hear it from his father's sister, from his father's family of origin. His aunt gave her nephew grounding, a reality that was painful, but one he could live with: That there was nothing wrong with him. That he was good and kind, talented, and loveable and had much to offer to the world, no matter what his father said.

"You ready?" Tami steeled herself for her husband before they walked inside.

He grabbed her hand, gave it a squeeze and said, "Yep."

Rebecca Matthews was a well-loved member of the community. A retired high school English teacher and a long time member of the First Presbyterian Church, there were lots of people filing past her open casket to pay their respects. Tami signed the guest book, leaving the address portion blank. After the line began to move, Eric spied his Uncle Sandy, his aunt's husband. His uncle had lost a lot of weight and aged over the years. The look of surprise on his uncle's face turned into one of delight. The older gentleman's eyes became misty, as he approached his nephew.

"Eric, is that _really_ you?" Sandy asked. "Oh, I am so glad you came, son."

Eric extended his hand and grabbed his uncle for a hug with his other arm.

"Uncle Sandy, I'm so sorry for your loss," Eric's voice cracked. His eyes became misty, too. "You know how much I loved my Aunt Becky."

"Oh, and she sure loved you. And she was so proud of you. When your team won the Texas State Championship, that's all she could talk about for weeks and weeks," his uncle reported. "We're _both_ very proud of you."

Eric nodded in acknowledgement. "You remember my wife, Tami," Eric extended the greeting.

"C'mere, Honey. Of course I remember you," Sandy said and gave his niece-in-law a big hug. "Thank you so much for coming here all the way from Texas."

There was a pause hanging in the air.

"Is he here?" Eric asked. The look on his face told the entire sad tale.

"Yes, he's here," the Uncle sadly reported. "After you pay your respects, why don't ya'll come back and sit over here with me. I'll make sure there will be no shenanigans. This is Becky's day."

The older man was firm in his resolve.

"That's right," Tami chimed in.

Tami and Eric stood in the line to go before the open casket. When it was their turn, Eric couldn't help but notice the body didn't look much like his aunt. He knew it was her, but it didn't really look like her. It was because his aunt was always so full of life, animated, exuding the life force. Eric reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a Panther play book. It was THE play book he used to win the State Championship. He placed it inside the casket.

"I love you, Aunt Becky," he whispered. "God bless you and be with you."

Tami put her hand on Eric's back, touched by her husband's loss and the way it was affecting him, by the way he was handling it.

In a matter of minutes, they were back with Eric's Uncle Sandy.

"We're going over to the diner afterwards. I'd love for ya'll to come and sit with me," Uncle Sandy said. "Corrine and Lacy are already there with their families. They would love to see ya'll."

Corrine and Lacy were Eric's first cousins.

"I'd like to, Uncle Sandy," Eric raised his eyes. There was pain in his eyes. "But we'll have to see how it goes, okay?"

Eric's uncle put a firm hand on his nephew's shoulder. "I understand."

It wasn't long before others began to recognize Eric Taylor and the buzz started to go around the room. For many people there, it had been at least fifteen years since they last saw their native son.

"Oh, my, you look so good! And this is your beautiful wife!" Eric heard the greeting more than ten times from various people he knew long ago. "Do you still live in Texas?" "Congratulations on winning the State Championship." "Don't ya'll have children?"

The comments and greetings became blurred after awhile.

It had been over an hour since Eric put down the two drinks. His stomach was gnawing, and he was coming down from the numbing buzz of the scotch. It was about that time that he finally heard, "Well, you came. I didn't think you would."

Eric turned around. It was his father. Tami took her husband's arm and pulled herself close to his side.

"I came to pay my respects to my Aunt Becky," Eric said flatly with no emotion, refusing to make eye contact with his father.

"Does your mother still live in Chicago with _that man_?" Nathan asked.

Eric clenched his jaw. "You mean _her husband _of over 25 years?"

He continued to make no eye contact.

"Wow, Eric. You're as much a snotty little shit as you always were," the older Taylor looked down his nose at his son who still refused to make eye contact.

Tami, becoming very concerned, squeezed Eric's arm.

"C'mon, Hon, let's go," she whispered.

"Wait," the older man barked. "I want to know how my grandchildren are doing. I have _a right_ to know how my grandchildren are doing."

Eric retorted, this time looking the man dead in the eye. "Our children have grandfathers, but you are not one of them."

Tami pulled Eric's arm hard this time. "C'mon. Let's go."

About this time, Uncle Sandy saw the altercation and the distressed look on Tami's face.

"Nate, that's enough. You are not going to cause a scene at your sister's viewing. I will call security and have you hauled out of here if you can't behave yourself."

"Hell, I'm not doing anything wrong," Nathan protested. "I'm asking about my damn grandchildren. I hear I've got a new one."

Some of the other attendees flagged a security guard from outside the room. He approached the party and asked, "What's going on here?"

Tami spoke up. "We were just leaving. Could we get you to escort us to our car?"

"Is there a problem?" the guard asked Sandy, knowing this was his service.

"These two are not the problem," Sandy began alluding to the other gentleman as being the cause of the altercation.

The guard then asked Nathan to step aside with him. Nathan tried to finesse his way out of the scene, but the guard was bigger than him.

Eric turned to his uncle. "Look, I think we'd better go. We have a red-eye to catch tonight. I know this is wrong, but the school district doesn't give bereavement leave for an aunt, even though she was much more than that to me. In this economy, we don't dare take any time off. I've got to be back at school bright and early tomorrow mornin'," he further explained. "We both work for the district."

He skipped a beat while digging in his coat pocket. Handing his uncle an envelope he said, "Here's my card and some recent pictures of the girls. If you all are ever in Dillon, you know you need to come see us. Just please keep this between you and my cousins."

Taking the envelope, Eric's uncle hugged his nephew. "I'm sorry ya'll have to go, but I understand. That old son-of-a-bitch," he sighed. "I never had much use for him. Now that Becky's gone, I have no use for him at all, and neither do my girls."

"It is what it is," Eric said in a low voice. "It was good to see you, Uncle Sandy. Give our love to your girls, explain what happened. They won't be surprised."

"No, they won't," his uncle sighed. "Well, c'mere little lady," Sandy motioned to Tami and gave her a hug. "Ya'll have a safe trip back and take good care of one another."

"We will," Tami said, and she kissed Uncle Sandy on the cheek.

In the meantime, the security guard called for another guard, who walked Eric and Tami to their car without incident.

The two rode in silence for over an hour later with Tami at the wheel. She knew her husband well enough to know that he needed some time 'to be.' Once they were headed towards Atlanta on the expressway, it was Tami who finally broke the silence. "Are you hungry? Want to stop and get something to eat before we board the plane?"

"Oh, yes. I need to eat somethin'. How about you?" he turned to look at his wife.

"I'm hungry. I was hungry when I ate those pretzel sticks. They didn't stick with me very long," she responded. "Well, you did it, Hon."

"Yeah, I did," Eric crossed his arms before him, over his seat belt and shoulder harness, settling in against the headrest. "You know what?"

"No, what," she briefly looked over and then, back to the road in front of her.

"I feel sorry for him. Not sorry enough to want to talk to him ever again, but I feel sorry for him." Eric began. "I have everything. I have the respect and love of the people in my life who are important to me. He has none of that."

"Yes, you do, Babe," Tami smiled and nodded with assurance. "Yes, you do."

"I can't wait to get home," Eric nodded. A tight lipped smile formed on his face. Needing to plug into his wife's touch, he reached over and placed his hand on his wife's knee.

With both hands remaining on the steering wheel, Tami looked over and gave him a loving smile. The Taylors left Atlanta later that night and headed back to Austin and the long drive back to Dillon. Eric had done what he needed to do. It was a great to be headed home.

fin-


End file.
